


Justice

by supernaturallylost



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Brotherly Affection, Drunk Dean, Drunkenness, Fluff, Gen, Humor, Nonsensical Speech, Second-Hand Embarrassment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-17
Updated: 2015-08-17
Packaged: 2018-04-15 04:02:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4592169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supernaturallylost/pseuds/supernaturallylost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean spends the night getting very drunk. By the time Sam comes home, Dean is entirely incoherent.</p>
<p>[Written for thewalking-destiel on Tumblr.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Justice

Dean stumbled into the armrest of the couch. When he straightened up, he held his hands out in front of him warningly.

“Stay!” he commanded in a loud whisper. He sloppily moved over and walked around the armrest before patting it. “Good couch.”

For no reason at all, Dean began to laugh. As his chuckles became louder and stronger, he swayed past the couch and the end tables, making it almost all of the way to the kitchen before he had to stop. Doubled over, he clutched his burning sides while the laughter shook him from head to toe.

“Then with the oh my wow!” he squeaked giddily. He put a hand on his forehead and the other on his knee, he backed up against the wall to brace himself, and he lowered himself to a seat on the ground. “With the wow so many!”

Giggling, Dean reached out in front of him and grasped at invisible strings. He knew nothing was there, of course, he just wanted to catch it. The more he tried to grab hold of the nothing in front of him, however, the more he came to realize that it didn’t want to be caught. Like a trained agent, Dean tilted forward into a swift, coordinated squat. Somehow, his feet weren’t programmed correctly, however, and he found himself falling face first onto the floor.

“How many the world to wow!” he exclaimed. He threw his hands in the air and looked at the ground beside him. “Color with the carpets?”

Dean wiggled his nose and felt that he was about to sneeze. To stop himself, logically, he smacked the ground beside his nose. Then, footsteps.

“Dean?”

Sam walked over easily, acting as though the floor wasn’t tilted wildly to one side. He leaned down in front of Dean, oblivious to the nothing in front of him that was flying around and mocking Dean for not being able to catch it.

“With the air and the color!” Dean cried sadly, waving a hand futilely.

Sam’s eyes went wide and he waved a hand by his nose.

“How much did you drink?” he whispered. Sam looked around and saw no bottle or cans at all. “Dean, what did you do?”

With his cheek on the ground, Dean squinted up at Sam and rolled his eyes. The whole motion took around sixty seconds, a new record. Then, with great dignity, Dean stuck out his tongue and blew a raspberry at Sam.

Sam wiped the spit from his face after sighing deeply.

“Come on, Dean. Let’s get you to bed.”

“You bed!” Dean responded victoriously. He waved a hand in an extremely triumphant way.

“Come on, you big mess,” Sam groaned.

He lifted Dean from under his armpits and practically carried him to his room. Once there, Dean gasped.

“A color!” he shouted, pointing at the blue comforter on his bed.

“That’s right,” Sam agreed, resigned.

He dropped Dean on the bed and allowed him to stroke the comforter lovingly.

“Where’d you keep the booze, Dean?” Sam asked seriously.

“Boobs?” Dean asked, looking confusedly at the blanket. He tilted his head to look at it from a different direction. Then, trying to be cool, he grinned. His face rubbed against the cool, soft pillow behind his head, and he smiled dumbly. “Boobs.”

“Where’s the alcohol, Dean?” Sam tried again.

Dean opened one eye and raised a finger to his lips.

“Sh,” he whispered. “Sam hears!”

Sam threw his palm onto his forehead with force, leaving a red mark.

“How much did you drink, Dean?” he shouted.

Dean bit his lip. When he released it, he did so with such energy that a loud bubble sound came out. Dean giggled and recreated the noise.

With his eyes wide and his temper rising, Sam shook his head.

“In the morning, you’re gonna tell me where you hid the bottles,” Sam said rationally.

“Boop!” Dean sounded idiotically.

After throwing his palm onto his forehead again, Sam left the room.

 

Dean woke up with slobber all over his face.

“Dammit, Sammy,” he mumbled. “What did I tell you about keeping stray dogs?”

After wiping down his face with the back of his hand, Dean opened his eyes and saw several new shapes and colors. Then, the world spun and Dean turned into the mattress before heaving.

“Good morning,” Sam smiled from the doorway. “Sleep well?”

When Dean rolled over, he squinted at the bright light until he found Sam’s face.

“Why’d you get a dog?” he whispered hoarsely.

Sam raised an eyebrow.

“It slobbered all over me,” Dean complained.

“No, that was just you,” Sam sighed. “You were pretty far gone when I came home.”

Dean closed his eyes and made a face at the taste in his mouth.

“Yeah,” Sam laughed, “I’m not surprised. Drink some water and you’ll feel better.”

“What happened?” Dean groaned, accepting a glass from Sam.

“A lot of nonsense, really,” Sam shrugged. “Something about your blanket having a color and boobs. I’m not really sure what else you were saying, but there were a lot of giggles.”

“I don’t giggle!” Dean argued, his mouth full of water. When the water ran down his lip and tickled his throat, he laughed softly at the feeling. Sam raised an eyebrow again, prompting Dean to mutter, “Shut up.”

“So what’d you drink?” Sam asked calmly. “Whatever it was, we should probably avoid it in the future.”

“Wasn’t it on the table?” Dean wondered before taking another sip of water.

Sam shook his head.

“I think you hid it,” Sam suggested.

Dean vaguely remembered playing hide and seek, but he opted not to tell Sam about that.

“I don’t know where it is,” Dean answered quickly. “I don’t even remember what it was.”

Sam sighed deeply.

“Well, one good thing came from it, at least,” Sam shrugged.

Dean raised his head, squinting at Sam’s phone.

“You didn’t,” he scowled murderously.

Sam nodded. “Remember when you sent those videos of me to Ellen and Bobby after I went bar hopping?”

Dean’s face flushed.

“And that time you sent a picture of me to Jo when I was really hammered?”

Dean held his breath.

“That time you got me to draw a picture of myself with carrots after I’d been drinking all night and you sent it to Jess in the mail so it would arrive two weeks after we started dating?”

Dean shook his head.

“Or, maybe you remember that time,” Sam started.

“Enough!” Dean panicked. “Those were all hilarious and I stand by them.”

Sam rolled his eyes.

“Who did you send it to, Sammy?” Dean asked darkly. “Who saw that?”

Sam smirked.

“Justice,” he smiled. “It feels so good.”

Then, more footsteps.

Bobby and Cas walked in and saw Dean laying on the bed next to a small pile of vomit and a ton of drool. Although Bobby was at a loss for words, Cas managed to raise a hand.

“Hey, Dean,” he said casually.

Dean’s face went beat red.

“Justice,” Sam whispered to himself gleefully. Putting his phone back in his pocket, he began to whistle as he left the room.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Leave comments if you have them!


End file.
